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February 27, 2010

Shall We Vance? (UPDATE: 4 years*)

As devoted readers will recall, last July we wrote a note to a professor we had in college, one Mr. Vance Fulkerson. Vance, a be-wigged reptilian creep, was found to have concealed a video camera inside a clock in his bathroom, where he recorded his students making pee-pee and ucky-poo. He often taught voice at his home and instructed his kids (students of his at UNC) to vocalize whilst pissing; singing, he told them, uses the same muscles as going number one. Really, Vance. That's just tacky.

Upon arrest, he claimed he installed the camera to keep tabs on his aging parents (because nothing says "I love you, mom" quite like spying on her pinching a loaf). Howev, of the many, many tapes of recorded bathroom guests, none were of mumsy or daddums, nor were any of them female. But in his defense some of his candid puerile porn stars were totally of legal age.

Anywho, after our blog post (which received FAR more hits than any other COWA post, and still does), his past students kept crawling out of the woodwork, each with a more harrowing/disgusting story to tell, many of whom emailed us or commented here on COWA.

Flash forward: on January 10, Fulkerson (not-so-affectionately known as "Vanceline" back in the day), pleaded guilty to one felony count of sexual exploitation of a child. In the bargain, 16 lesser charges were dropped. And this Wednesday, he gets sentenced to anything from probation to 12 years in the slammer.

We shall update this post when the sentence is handed down, so stay tuned. But meanwhile, we have a few more things to say to this oily predator. So let's "stop dicking around" (one of Vanceline's fave expressions) and get to it, shall we?

Dear Vanceline:

It's a strong possibility that you're enjoying your last lungfuls of freedom's sweet air for quite a while, maybe even forever (face it cream-puff, you're 63, and some of our more sensitive convicts tend to get stabby with child molesters). So we thought now's a good time to have a lil' chat.

First, we hate to break it to you, but you need to brace yourself for the eventuality of relinquishing your spectacularly obvious toupee. They don't allow wigs in maximum security. We admit to looking forward to your booking photo, for no one (outside that legendary day in dance class when your rug became un-moored after you executed an enthusiastic fan kick) has ever seen you sans hairpiece. You will also be obliged to remove your high-heeled zippered ankle boots, your maroon tights, and that cute plaid shirt you liked to knot at your midriff like Ellie Mae Clampett.

We wish you the best of luck in your game of cell-mate roulette, for you could be partnered with anyone from a check forger to a psychotic cannibal. At any rate, please be aware that the terlit will be in plain view of your cell-mate and every passerby. We hope you think about your hidden clock-camera every time you undergo the indignity of public pooping.

Next, we feel the need to apologize. Not to you, but to your "pets." It's like this: every year, you'd set your sights on a confused young man. You'd groom him, and laughably claiming to have Broadway connections you'd promise him stardom and cast him in leading roles. The WAM-ster himself could have been so "fortunate," had we not shivered in revulsion and told you to remove your hand from whence it had wandered one day in your office. But in the sheltered sphere of college, your "pets" were routinely ostracized by the other students, ruthlessly torn to shreds behind their backs (and sometimes, regrettably, right in front of their faces).

We see now how miserable they were. Enduring the ghastly carnal attentions of an immoral (and profoundly icky) snake, the ridicule and cold shoulder of their classmates, and the visible destruction of their self-esteem. Eventually, a new semester would bring fresh meat, and they'd find themselves cut loose. We wish we'd seen what was really happening instead of being blinded by our shallow teenaged ego/rivalry/resentment. And we hope your long overdue incarceration brings them some kind of belated cold comfort.

And finally, you classy tub of rancid Crisco, know that we take no real pleasure from the thought of you being inevitably beaten to a pulp for pirouetting in some prison cafeteria; no more pleasure than we derive from the fact that you oozed from your mother's thighs to begin with. Your victim's scars endure, regardless.

XOXWAM

* The Judge has sentenced Vanceline to 4 years in the slammer (check out his hollow video mea culpa, complete with fake crocodile tears). Your sentence, Vancy-poo, is equal to the four years we spent in the college in which you taught. At sentencing, you said: "I am ashamed of my secretive fantasizing."

Well, Vance...it's like this. Everyone has weird fantasies. Not everyone acts on their fantasies by concealing a camera in their bathroom to record underaged guests going pee-pee and poo-poo. So you're going to the big house for four years, and were led from the courthouse in cuffs. And you'll be 67 when you emerge. Sorry bitch, we can't cry for you.

Because when you're released, the world, for 4 years, will have been blissfully, a little bit less slimy.

Bon voyage.

Vance sez: "I wouldn't have been so creepy with the kid if I knew he'd grow up and write this blog and invite folks to subscribe to his feed."

When I first read this I couldn't comment, it hit too close to home. I've spent the last 30 plus years trying to come to grips with my own private hell. Sadly, I think he should have gotten more time. It's as though when you abuse a kid it's not all that big a deal. In my personal experience, it's the nightmare that never goes away, it visits you every night and morphs into your everyday life whether you like it or not. I HAVE learned to deal with the consequences and realize the movie that is playing out in real life doesn't at all resemble the one playing inside my head. Vance, and everyone like you, I hope you rot in hell.

WAM,
How do you think turds like Vance happen? Do you think they are born with some kind of twisted instinct, some type of environmental issues are at play, or it's just their own fucked up choice? Maybe a little of all three? I have often pondered this question but I have no answers.

I also noticed on the link in your post that Vance was caught with kiddie porn as well. Disgusting. Recidivism among pedos is extraordinarly high ya know and people like Vance are a parent's worst nightmare.

The law is FAR too lenient with these shitbags! Hell, I just checked the Magan's Law website, and found that there are FOUR of these monsters living within a one-mile radius of my house!! The worst part? All four are within TWO BLOCKS of an elementary school!! I passed this info on to the neighbors, of course. I know where there are a lot of old, abandoned mineshafts in the desert...I wonder if I should pass around some maps, as well...

@JWB cubed/Psychocat: Indeed, 4 years sounds a tad light. But take heart, he has declared bankruptcy, gone into foreclosure, lost his job, and has had his face plastered all over the media. His life, for all intents and purposes, is kaput.

@Winksi: Who the hell knows. Perhaps the world needs bad people so we can recognize the good ones. We don't hate Vance (strongly dislike? check. repulsed by? yup), we don't want him dead. But we're glad some karma's landing on his wigged noggin. And we're glad he's never going to teach again. If, however, someone took your advice and gunned him down, we wouldn't cry. But then the gunner-downer would be charged with murder. And that's karma too.